The Golden Circuit
The copper wire snaps taut against the back of your neck, a cold line of voltage that tastes of ozone and rust, and you are falling through the ceiling of the house that used to be yours, landing in a heap of shattered glass and drywall dust that coats your tactical gear in a fine, white ash. You do not move, not immediately, because the pain is a distant, humming thing, a frequency that...
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